Celebrating the Life of Vince DiCroce

Due to news I received yesterday, I decided to take a short break from the travel blog and reflect on the life of a friend. I wrote this yesterday, but wanted another day to reflect before posting it. The rest of the Salkantay Trail hike will appear in the next day or two.

I am profoundly sad today. For the past 10 years, my friend Vince DiCroce has been battling brain cancer. We all knew this day would ultimately come, but Vince beat the odds so often over the years that I hoped beyond hope that he would do the unimaginable yet again and beat an unbeatable disease.

I have written about Vince on this blog in the past, and his own blog about fighting a terminal illness was beautifully heart wrenching and always inspiring.

Vince was a man who was seemingly always smiling, even when he clearly hurt, and he was the type of man who made me smile every time I saw him.

In 2004, Vince was diagnosed with brain cancer, and he knew it would one day take his life. However, instead of dwelling on the unfairness of the situation, Vince rededicated himself to getting everything possible out of his time left. If you didn’t know about his condition, you would never have fathomed that this man was anything other than invincible.

One of my proudest moments in running was during the 2007 Tucson Marathon. At Mile 14, I passed Vince for the first and only time in any race. Granted, he was stopping in a port-a-john at the time. I ended up with a finish time of 3:28, still my personal best. Vince ran a 3:24. He beat me even with a stop halfway through. There was really never a doubt that he would, and I was good with it as he smiled and cheered me on as he went flying back by me late in the race.

During the past 10 years, Vince completed 29 marathons and seven Ironman competitions. One of those marathons was a personal best 3:03 at Richmond in November 2012.

I saw Vince at a Runner’s Edge of the Rockies run the following week and asked how he did. He said he set a PR and was pleased with the race. I was ecstatic for him. I’d seen all the hard work he put into his training in order to make himself the best possible competitor he could, and his dedication had really paid off.

Vince seemed pleased as he spoke to me that morning, but he just didn’t seem as happy as I thought he should have. I brushed it off as being early in the morning or maybe he had really wanted that elusive sub-3:00 race and just missed it.

Later I found out that Vince had gone to a doctor’s appointment a few days after that race. Although he felt like he was in the best shape of his life and had defied the odds with his brain tumor, Vince received news that day that the cancer was back.

Just like before, Vince did not let it slow him down. He went through rough stretches of chemo treatments and various ailments, but Vince kept going.

He showed up on Saturday morning group runs. Sometimes he looked like he was struggling, but most times he showed signs of his former self, flying past other runners and tossing out words of encouragement as he went.

Last May, he said he might try to run the Colfax Half Marathon. Instead he ran the full 26.2 miles, crossing the finish line at 3:56. It was nothing short of amazing.

The view from my bus literally changed
from thick fog to sunshine the moment
that I heard Vince was no longer suffering. 

Today, the cancer finally got Vince DiCroce. I was on a bus in the middle of Ecuador when I got the text message. The entire ride had been foggy and cloudy and generally dreary up to that point.

I’d known Vince had been in the hospital, and the doctors had said he would likely not last more than a day or two. When I got the text, I was crushed. But I also noticed something strange happened at literally that exact same moment. The sun broke through the clouds and showed the incredible scenery of the Andes all around us.

I’m not sure what you believe happens after someone leaves this life, but I am positive Vince was checking in on what I was doing at that moment, and he was smiling. His pain was finally gone, and he no longer had to fight the beast that was his brain tumor.

My own summer of exploration was sparked by the realization that I needed a change in my career and a revitalization of my passion for life.

Vince taught me many things during the miles I ran with him, the meals I ate with him and the beers I drank with him. But the one lesson that always jumps out when I think of Vince is that we should never let an opportunity pass us by.

Vince lived his life with determination, kindness, humor and a million other qualities that drew people to him.  

I am utterly thankful to Vince for his friendship and all the lessons he taught me.

I will miss you, my friend.

And to you readers, please take a moment tonight to look around and be thankful for all the blessings in your life, and raise a glass to Vince and all the good he did in this world.